Fax to the Max
by KatyGrace
Summary: FAX ! Fax fluff. Rated T for edgy themes. R&R
1. Chapter 1

The clock read six thirty in the morning when my droopy eyes managed to peek at the bureau, and I reburied my face into my pillow. Max want more sleep.

"Mmmph…" I rolled over in my bed, my wings a mass of white and brown feathers tangled in my bed sheets.

"Wake up, sleepy head," came a low whisper in my ear, and I panicked, my arms flailing in midair.

"What the… who? Fang!" My head shot up to see a smirking teenage boy sitting beside my curled up self, his knee against my thigh. Around fifteen years old, 'bout six foot tall, scruffy black hair nearing his shoulders, muscles obvious: he's pretty much every girl's dream. Only I'm in luck! Fang's _mine._ He was in sleep clothes: only boxers and the usual black t-shirt. Yum.

On a side note, I didn't think of him that way when he whispered all stalker-like into my ear. He was more the obnoxious, twelve-year-old best friend of mine who's the only living soul that can creep up on Maximum Ride. He is Mr. Tall, Dark, and _Silent,_ after all. And this is coming from the mutant bird girl who has raptor vision and super hearing.

"Fang, any reason why you're – " – I yawned – " – waking me up now? It's like six in the morning."

His stoic face revealed a hint of amusement when he told me, "Max, I don't know what you've been smoking, but it's about nine thirty."

"Go jump in a lake. Or, more fittingly, go smoke a joint," I retorted, weakly. I checked the clock again. "Oh." Stupid six and its resemblance to nine. Love is blind? How about a sleepy Max?

Fang pushed my bangs out of my face (which had gotten there because I'm the restless sleeper of the century) and planted a kiss on me, out of the blue. I was surprised at first: I established a kiss-after-brushing-your-teeth policy after we became… you know, but I kissed him back a second later, my hands clutching the bed comforter.

After he pulled away, I asked, breathless, "What was that about?"

Fang gave me one of his amazing genderbent-Mona-Lisa-smiles, making my heart jump a bit. "I don't know. I just felt like it. I remembered how beautiful you are." His finger began tracing my jaw, and I watched, too groggy to tease him. Also, so much affection was trapped into his voice that I just felt like kissing him again. Aww.

I mustered enough strength to sit up before I (purposefully) fell into Fang's lap, my back against his chest. His arms wrapped around mine when I said, "You high? Beautiful? Me?"

I felt the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck as he murmured, "Duh."

Gesturing towards my matted hair, I asked, "Even with my bedhead?"

Fang began combing my blond snarls with his fingers, holding up strands to see how sunlight reflected off of them. "Even with your bedhead."

Fang was the only one who could ever make me feel beautiful. I mean, in all honesty, when you're on the run from evil mad scientists taking over the world you don't get much time to spare yourself a glance in a mirror.

But I'll take Fang's word for it.

I encircled my arms around his neck and jerked them downwards to have both of us fall onto pillows, laughing. I then lay my head on his chest and whispered, "Fang, sleep with me."

And no, you pervs in the back (I know you're here), not in_ that_ way.

"We should be waking up, unless you prefer eating breakfast at noon. Why are you still tired anyways?"

"I was up late. And I just feel like relaxing," I replied, adjusting my position on top of Fang/the bed for ultimate comfort.

"You're not very good at that. You're Max the drill sergeant, remember?" He laughed as I smacked him upside the head.

"Shut up. Either go make me some breakfast like a good boyfriend or sleep here with me," I ordered, putting on a stern face with difficulty.

"You just proved my point."

Another smack from me. Another laugh from him. "I hate you."

Fang kissed the top of my forehead, resulting in my pouty lip turning into a shy smile. "I love you too, Max."


	2. Chapter 2

"Speaking of relaxing, Max, the kids want to know if they have to go back to Max's Home School now that the birthday party is over," Fang informed me, still messing with my hair. We the Flock celebrated our becoming one year older yesterday, complete with balloons, decorations, cake, ice cream, and presents. The presents included a digital camera, a photo frame, some marble fudge, badass fireworks, and the best gift of all: the beautiful birthstone ring Fang gave me. (Yes, it was girly. No, I still loved it.)

We partied hard, stuffing ourselves with Iggy's fudge as Angel took pics with her new camera. I hadn't had that much fun in… forever. I don't regret taking the break, but we really need to keep researching. I'm trying to prevent the end of the world, here, and to do this I need some info.

On the other hand, we're here in Colorado, safe and (mostly) happy in our house built for us by the CSM and currently on a No-Dangerous-Ambush streak. Maybe I should make the most of it. The opportunity to lay back doesn't present itself to the flock very often.

I wasn't about to ask the Voice for advice, though. The Voice is never into my more leisurely ideas, making it biased. So no.

_You're right, you need to keep working, and hard. You'll save the world, Max. _Of course.

_Whatever, Voice. If I've heard it once, I've heard it thousand times._

_But, you also need to keep the Flock happy. They're becoming disloyal. Remember all facets._

Well, this was new. And disturbing. I opted for the cold shoulder. _Go away, Voice. _

I realized that Fang was prodding my arm, and then proceeded to swatting his hand away.

"Let me sleep on it," I muttered to him, rolling over in bed. Fang snorted.

"Like you haven't slept on it enough?" We were both lying on our sides, close together, and I shrugged into his chest.

"Morning, Max," came a drowsy voice as my bedroom door slid open, revealing a spiky blond head.

"Morning, Gazzy," I replied, peeking my head out under the covers. Fang did a salute.

"Hey, Gaz," he said, making Gazzy give Fang a smug look.

"Oh, of course Fang's here too. _Snuggling_ with me," The Gasman cooed in a sappy version of my voice, and Fang rolled his eyes as a blush blossomed across my cheeks.

"You know what, Max? I don't think snuggling is enough. Let's give Gazzy a real show." Fang cupped my face in his hands and planted his lips onto mine. After the initial shock wore off, I kissed him back with equal passion, our mouths moving in sync with each other, his hands on my waist underneath the comforter. I think our tongues met when Gazzy began to yell in disgust.

"Yuck! My poor, innocent eyes! I'm scarred!" he exclaimed, running out of my room with his fingers over his baby blue orbs. Fang and I broke apart, making a huge smacking sound. I could still taste Fang in my mouth as we both began to laugh hysterically, wiping our mouths on our shirtsleeves. Kissing can be so slobbery.

"Super effective," I told Fang, laughter in my voice, and we fistbumped.

"Fang and Max use MAKE OUT. It's super effective! Gazzy is terrified. Gazzy ESCAPES. Max and Fang earn one thousand experience points," he recited, and I shoved him.

"You idiot. Come on; let's go eat breakfast. I'm not sleepy anymore, for some reason," I told him, swinging my legs to plant my bare feet on the carpet.

Fang smirked at me, "What, all that making out wake you up?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. Yeah, I'm mature. "Maybe. Come on, I smell eggs."

I grabbed his hand and dragged him out of bed, and we headed downstairs.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Because who doesn't love Fax fluff/antics? Oh, right. LOSERS.**

**Apologies for the shortness. Next chap coming real soon. :)**

**R&R~**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Yo. This was fun to write. I hope you find it as entertaining as I did. XD**

**Reviews are loved~**

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><p>Fang and I were greeted with grins when we got downstairs. I suppose everyone was still happy with me about the b-day bash. Throw a party with lots of cake, and I'm super popular amongst the Flock. Insist on schoolwork and studying and I'm Hitler-Max that everyone hates. I'm not a genius by any means, but this was easy to understand. Flock like fun and not books.<p>

Three birdkids were in the kitchen, the Gasman and Nudge starting to eat while Iggy stood at the stove, making scrambled eggs and flipping pancakes at the same time. Angel was probably sleeping in for whatever reason.

"Told you they were in Max's room," Gazzy gloated as he set his plate of toast onto the dining table. I rolled my eyes as I stepped onto the last stair step.

"I thought Fang was in the bathroom. I owe Gazzy ten bucks because I lost our bet, then," Nudge's voice sighed while Nudge herself stuffed her mouth with a forkful of pancakes.

"Wha'? No, I don'!" she protested as fluffy pancake bits spewed out of her mouth and maple syrup dribbled down her chin.

"Gazzy, that was a lame attempt, even for you," Fang remarked, sauntering into the kitchen, me following. _Sauntering_? No, Max, he's just walking_._ Oh God. Why was everything he did so sexy?

"Not as lame as my cooking," Gazzy replied matter-of-factly in my voice. I had just settled onto a chair, and threw Gaz a glare while Fang shook with silent laughter in the adjacent seat.

"Keep talking, Gazzy, and I'll cook your food for you for the rest of the year," I threatened, stabbing my egg yolk. The Gasman pouted, translating to _Fine, I'll shut up_. Iggy, the chef, took his seat across from me and gagged.

"Max? Cooking? What horrible thing did Gaz do to earn such a cruel punishment?" he asked as the other four of us munched on our food.

I swallowed the egg-and-toast mixture in my mouth and gave Iggy a sickly sweet smile. "You want a year's supply too, Ig?"

"No thanks. I'll take up your offer when I want to die of food poisoning," he responded, grinning blindly (yep, I've got a way with words) over my shoulder. Fang, Nudge, and the Gasman were as successful at holding their laughter in as I was at not swearing at the infuriating strawberry blond cook of ours.

"You little motherfu – "

Fang clapped his hand over my mouth and chided me, "No colorful language at the breakfast table, Max. There are children here, remember?"

Iggy, Nudge, and the Gasman shot him annoyed looks. Ha-ha. Nudge sipped her orange juice before complaining, "I am _so_ not a child. I turned twelve yesterday!"

Gazzy declared, "I'll be a double-digit kid in just another year!"

"And I'm your age, lovebirds," Iggy added defensively, sprinkling sugar onto his waffles.

"Then why do you never act like it, Ig?" Fang asked him, his hand still covering my mouth. Wanting to prod Iggy too, I struggled against Fang, tugging at his arm, but he wouldn't let go. Freak.

Iggy sneered, "Yes, because you're totally acting your age by muting your girlfriend so she doesn't say motherfu – "

"Mmmmph!" I yelled – or tried to yell, since I was stifled by Fang's freaking hand. No way I would let Iggy get away with that. Hey: if _I'm_ not allowed to say it, he sure as heck isn't.

A little burst of inspiration made me lick Fang's hand, my DNA slimed all over his rough palm. He recoiled, and I yelled in triumph as my lips were freed, making Nudge giggle. Fang looked at his hand with a disgusted expression.

"What's wrong, Fang? That stuff's in your mouth all the time, isn't it?" Iggy sniggered, and I joined in. Gazzy made a 'yechh!' noise.

"What the hell, Max?" Fang asked me, wiping my spit on his boxer shorts. I could easily register his annoyance through his tightened jaw, but I felt in the mood to tease.

"No colorful language at the breakfast table Fang. There are children here, remember?" I admonished him, smirking. He rolled his eyes.

"Why'd you lick me?"

Iggy muttered something about me licking Fang's lips all the time. Fang and I ignored him.

"Why'd you keep your freaking hand on my mouth?"

"I wanted to be sure you were cooled down when I released you. I did it so you wouldn't say 'motherfucker'."

Whoops.

Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy and I cracked up, enjoying Fang's mortified expression to the fullest. He muttered something around the lines of, "Damn…"

I wiped a tear from my eye, still chortling. "After all your precaution, Fang, you're the one that slipped up. Mr. Loose Lips, you are."

Gazzy was laughing so hard milk shot out of his nose, and when he saw what he did he just started cracking up again, said milk flying out of his nostrils even faster. Iggy cheered him on as Nudge edged away so she wouldn't get splashed.

"Then are we allowed to say motherfu – "

"No," Fang and I answered Gazzy in unison, and he groaned inwardly.

"You guys are never any fun…" He got up to put his plate in the sink when a flick of butter stuck to the back of his neck. The Gasman turned slowly, expecting Iggy, but instead finding me with my fork in launching position, wearing a devilish smile that said _Am I fun now?_ Fang's eyes widened halfway (the Fang equivalent to being utterly astonished) and Nudge's mouth was agape.

"Food fight!" Iggy yelled, aiming a powdery waffle at Fang, who ducked, making it land on my face instead. Gazzy threw a handful of eggs at Nudge, which landed on her pyjama pants, and she shrieked and retaliated with a piece of French toast. I spluttered sugar out of my mouth as Fang grinned at me.

"You look like you're wearing powder," he told me, his index finger grazing my cheek, "as in makeup." He licked his finger and smacked his lips. "Mmmm. Sweet."

My white cheeks turned pinkish. Stupid Fang. "You know, you're right. I look much better with these cosmetics. I have a suggestion for you too," I said slyly, grabbing the maple syrup bottle and squirting syrup all over his face. I could see how gooey the syrup was as it dripped from the dark strands of his hair.

"Your face seems handsomely browned," I snickered, loving the look on his face, "and I think your look beats anything the sun could offer for your skin."

His tongue grazed the corner of his mouth, tasting the maple syrup as he regained his composure. "You're a brilliant stylist, Max, and your face is well made," he said, eerily calm, and a sense of dread had taken hold of me. _Uh-oh, what does he have planned?_

"But I think you could use a little blush," Fang finished, grabbing two pieces of bread off his plate to plant them on my cheeks. Peeling them off a millisecond later, I gasped as the red jam made sticky round circles on my face. Fang smirked at me, and I humored him by scooping jam into my mouth.

"Strawberry," I informed him, very serious-like, and he nodded curtly. The moron.

Meanwhile, Iggy, Nudge, and the Gasman were in a triangle of food war. Iggy was flicking strips of bacon at Gazzy's face as Gazzy slapped Nudge's head with blueberry pancakes while Nudge pelted Iggy's stomach with sunny-side-up eggs. The food would usually stick to their clothes and/or hair, and sometimes they would even catch some in their mouth, but still crumbs and chunks would fall to the floor. This would be fun to clean up afterwards.

I returned to Fang, who watched me with a bemused expression, his obsidian eyes noting my powdery white face and red cheeks. "All you need is a hat and red nose, and you'll look just like a clown," he assured me, probably picturing me in circus clothes. I shoved him, and he added, "More of a clown than usual, anyway."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Fake Tan," I retorted, catching a drop of syrup dripping from his chin and licking it clean off my finger. I felt an urge to laugh again. He looked so damn funny. "You really couldn't settle with the lotion, could you? Had to go and buy freaking maple syrup!"

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p'. Fang stared intently at my face again as I heard a particularly loud shriek from Nudge, and I craned my neck to see Gazzy spreading cream cheese onto her ponytail. She was pissed. He was so going to get it now.

"Max?" Fang said, wiping the syrup off his face with a dry pancake. I felt the urge to giggle mixed with a bizarre desire to eat the pancake.

"Yeah?"

"Your clown makeup looks tasty."

"I assure you, it is." I twirled my finger on my face, making sure to get both flavors before popping it into my mouth.

"I'd like a taste. Can I?" he asked, an indefinable expression on his face. Hmm.

"I guess," I said, offering him some on my thumb. Fang shook his head.

"Not like that." He took another dry pancake and wiped my face clean (those things make great napkins, people) and squeezed all the white-and-red gooey goodness onto my lips. I stared at the huge pink blob below by nose.

"Fang, what - ?" I didn't have the chance to finish since Fang leaned over to kiss me. There was the usual (and did I mention amazing?) Fang taste, along with a warm hint of maple syrup compliments of him topped off with a sticky strawberry flavor and and sugary sweetness from yours featherly. It was a passionate lip-lock, complete with some delicious tongue action that revealed a whole list of new tastes, and, of course, that blissful feeling in my chest that always arrives when I kiss Fang.

When we split, I gave him one of my rarities: a light, flirty smile. The only thing he had to say to me was, "Yum."

I smacked him. That idiot.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Uhh. Sorry I haven't updated. School started and I was all "NYUUU!"**

**Enjoy.**

**More fluffity fluff soon. :D**

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><p>Comb in one hand, Angel scoured the bathroom drawers for her new hair ribbon, the silky pink beauty she'd received yesterday from Max as a seventh birthday gift accompanying her tattoo coupons.<p>

Angel was surprised at first at the sudden celebration, but she soon picked up on Max's intentions. _Even the Flock needs a vacation once in a while._

_Crash!_ Was there a noise coming from downstairs?

She listened. Angel's ears vaguely registered a yelp that sounded like Nudge's. "CREAM CHEESE?"

Huh. Angel must've been imagining things.

Her right hand then revealed a shimmering hair-tie from the depths of Nudge's tacky jewelry box. Angel began brushing her blond curls, eyeing the box with disdain. _That girl has no taste._

As she braided her hair, Angel's mind wandered. Max had totally ignored her when Angel corrected her before on her actual birthday: "But… I'm already seven, and I didn't have a party." Max hadn't debated it. Nor had she bothered asking how Angel knew.

Angel recognized this as not good. Max was already forming a clear picture in her mind on who Angel truly was. And Angel needed the "sweet, cute, and innocent" gimmick to go on for her as long as possible. Without it, her plans would be near impossible, they'd crumble. By Max, in particular.

Angel yawned as she fastened her hair with the ribbon, tossing the neat yellow plait over one shoulder. Why was she so tired? It wasn't as if they'd had a rough day of flying the previous day. They'd only had the (admittedly fun) birthday bash, laughing and forgetting all the horrors of being an Avian-American and enjoying their presents and stuffing their faces with cake and Iggy's fudge. Angel had even dismissed her leader-plans for the night.

Ah… Iggy's fudge. Cake. She'd eaten much too much of both. It explained why she had collapsed on her bed while still in shoes, why her small stomach was still so full.

Had Angel helped clean up? No, Max had swept up the mess. Along with Fang, who had joined her midway, sneaking his arms around her waist as she tossed gift-wrap into the garbage. Max jumped in surprise before laughing, kissing him with a hint of birthday ice cream still on her lips. Fang informed Max he just realized how tasty chocolate (his) and strawberry (hers) ice cream were together. She punched him playfully, and they set off to cleaning the room.

Angel had been near asleep when she got note of Max and Fang's thoughts from the living room, but they were so strong (read: overly sappy) that they'd managed to intrude into her brain, even in its groggy state.

She'd shut out their romantic blah to get some sleep.

Now, though, Angel regretted not staying up to help. Angel sweeping the house tidy while Max dozed would make an excellent impression on the rest of the Flock. Unfortunately, Angel hadn't thought of that when her head had been so clogged by cake.

Angel finished brushing her teeth and tugged on a flowery jumper, flouncing downstairs with an actual smile. Iggy's fudge does _wonders_ to your spirit, she thought.

Her smile quickly disappeared, though. Angel was greeted with a powder-caked Iggy, a sticky Gasman, and a furious Nudge with cream cheese strung in her hair. The kitchen was a disaster: the floor was coated with a fine layer of sugar, there were puddles of syrup and jam on the floor, and the walls were dotted with egg yolks.

To top it all off, Max and Fang were sitting (awfully close) together at the kitchen table, Max leaning towards Fang far enough to fall into his lap, both with rosy faces and – ick! – the exact same jelly-and-sugar-mixture on their mouths. Fang was musing about their make out session inside that dark head of his. Angel really hated her mind-reading abilities sometimes.

Her "sweet n' cute!" façade could be on hold for another minute.

Angel narrowed her eyes and placed her small hands on her hips, balling her fingers into fists. Her acid gaze was directed towards Max. "What _happened?_"


End file.
